Epitaphs
by leah-chan
Summary: Twelve years and eighteen months and there isn't all that much to say anymore. (post GoF, Sirius/Remus)


Epitaphs  
  
[i regret everything]  
  
Sirius arrives on your doorstep the Thursday after you give up on him.  
  
You tell him he looks terrible, and he half-laughs before he collapses into your arms, light enough to carry. He's too tall for your lumpy sofa, but you don't think you'd make it up the stairs to your bedroom, so you arrange him well enough, his feet dangling off the edge. His face is pensive, guarded, and even in his sleep he looks like he's warding off blows. You can feel his ribs under his clothes, and it's evident he hasn't been eating well, but you can hardly blame him for that. At least he's not dead.  
  
Eighteen months and no word. Harry's almost-monthly owls had occasionally hinted to Sirius' condition, but there hadn't been any news in so long. You just couldn't bring yourself to hope anymore.  
  
You try not to think about it, but it isn't until Sirius wakes up and stumbles into the kitchen on his own strength, that you admit to yourself he's real.  
  
[there's no such thing as a clean break]  
  
You don't ask where he's been, you don't ask what's happened to him, you don't ask him why he's sitting in your kitchen after a year and a half. Twelve years and eighteen months and there isn't all that much to say anymore. Your few attempts at small talk fail spectacularly.   
  
Sirius won't meet your eyes, you think, for the exact reason you won't meet his. He's a visible reminder of things you'd rather not think about, and it's a pretty sick joke that he still has the same pull over you that he's always had. So fucking long and he still smells the same. When he was gone it made your lungs ache with every breath and when he's here everything is that much worse. Your hands are shaking and your head hurts, but you won't let yourself reach for him. The Sirius you're bound to died a long time ago and you don't know this stranger in his skin.  
  
He breaks the silence eventually, answering your unasked questions. You don't really say anything. You heard about Cedric's death. You've been expecting this. You're far too tired for outrage and it's not like it would do anyone good. Another war, the way Sirius tells it, is starting soon. You just wonder what you have left to lose.  
  
You pick up the dishes and clean them yourself to still your hands. Sirius says that he's staying for a while, and you're proud of yourself that you don't flinch.  
  
[all you can do is what you can do]  
  
Sirius' ghost becomes a permanent addition to your house. He drinks your tea and reads your books and stares for hours at old pictures waving and smiling from their frames. You live as you have for these past months.  
  
Sometimes you wake to the moaning and whining of a dog outside your bedroom, but it's always followed by the click of nails scurrying away on the hardwood. By day, Sirius doesn't say anything, just leaves scraps of parchment covered in his illegible scrawl laying around the house.  
  
You have no idea what to do. You can't begin to fix him and he can't fix you and there are years and years of space between you. You almost wish for something, something that could spur you to action, clear the cobwebs from your mind. You just want a singular focus, one that doesn't stare back at you with haunted eyes.  
  
[i'll miss you]  
  
Everyone you know, and Severus is doing the best. Dumbledore has him looking after you now, which you see as a kind gesture, and Severus views as an unnecessary chore. He appears at your back door like usual, it's all normal and comfortable, and you go about making tea before you remember that Sirius is lurking about.  
  
Their confrontation is just like every one they've had, petty and volatile, more the children they were than the men they are. You can't help but wonder if Severus is still jealous of Sirius, although you really can't see why he would be. You have to yell at them to calm down and push Sirius out of the room before the tension's off, but still Severus doesn't stop sneering the whole visit. You're thankful for the Wolfsbane potion, as always, but far more thankful when he leaves.  
  
It sparks a change in Sirius, though. He asks why Severus was there, starts asking after you, touches your hand by accident.  
  
You wake at night now to a black dog at the foot of your bed.  
  
[thank you]  
  
Sirius starts talking to you over lunch about the past year, about the muggle police, the dementors he can see in his sleep, about hiding and scavenging for food. He talks for an hour straight, and afterwards he smiles, a real honest smile, takes your hand and says, "it's good to know that you're doing alright."  
  
You say, "it's just good to know that you're alive," and you almost choke on the words as you say them. It's hard to breathe. You look Sirius in the eye after, though, and things almost become clear.  
  
You go to bed tired, but you're not surprised when you can't sleep. You open your eyes when you feel the mattress shift and look up to see Sirius' silhouette shadowed by the half-moonlight filtering through the window.  
  
"This war is going to kill me, Remus, and I don't want to die alone this time." He pauses and turns to you and you're not awake enough for this. "I miss you, and they took what we had from me. But I can still feel you." You almost laugh, because this is the closest he's come to a romantic declaration in 19 years.  
  
He touches his fingertips to your face and you can read sadness in his eyes by the muddy light. Your hands shake as they come to rest on his shoulders, and you pull him down to the mattress, to sleep.  
  
[beloved husband]  
  
You are the both of you broken by time and situations far beyond your control, so the whole thing feels like a second marriage. Things are far more calm between you now, than when you first came together. The wolf in you rejoices the reunion, but the rest of you is wary - you'd resigned yourself to being alone for the rest of your life. You don't trust hope.  
  
Sirius, though, winds his way into your life further, and you can just breathe with his arms around you. He smiles more now, and laughs, and it almost reaches his eyes. And when he kisses you for the first time in so many years, you feel all of 16 again.  
  
For the duration, you'll let yourself believe. 


End file.
